


elementary

by TheJoysOfAMultishipper (Amemah)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, First Meeting, Minor Violence, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-06
Updated: 2017-03-06
Packaged: 2018-09-28 17:04:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10140677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amemah/pseuds/TheJoysOfAMultishipper
Summary: “My apologies. Upon closer inspection it turns out that you are not the person I was hired to kill.”“You fuckingthink?"OR Bucky accidentally shoots Darcy, but she hates jumping to conclusions (even when she probably should), so everything works out fine.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Devidlg](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Devidlg/gifts).



> A gift for [Devidlg](http://devidlg.tumblr.com/) because she's the best. this was actually supposed to be a Christmas present, but y'know. I really did try, promise!
> 
> Okay, so: the Minor Violence tag really is truthful - I deal with the violence in the aftermath and it's not dramatic or graphic at all. 
> 
> And please let me know if you liked it - makes it so much more fun to write if I know people enjoy reading my stuff :D
> 
> also sorry i havnet written anything in, like, three months lol. I've been ill.
> 
> Hugs!
> 
> //[My tumblr!Come say hi!"](http://empresslucrezia.tumblr.com/)

“My apologies. Upon closer inspection it turns out that you are not the person I was hired to kill.”

Darcy looked up from the gaping wound in her stomach and just sort of… _looked_ at him, with an incredible amount of disbelief and as if her new outlook on life was to just say ‘fuck it’ whenever anything remotely out of the ordinary happened.

“Yeah,” she said, unable to stop herself from rolling her eyes at the guy with the sniper rifle. “You fucking _think?_ ”

It wasn’t until she was already falling to the floor, fainting, that she realized getting shot didn’t count as _out of the ordinary_ – it was more _holy fucking shit I’ve been shot_.

* * *

“So not only was I not the person you were supposed to kill, I was actually the person you were supposed to _protect_.”

“Yes.” He replied, his body doing an aborted movement that on anyone else would’ve been a wince. Actually, it was a wince on him too – it was just a tad bit more dramatic with the Kevlar (she assumed it was Kevlar, but had no way of knowing, of course) and the guns and the knives.

“So how’s that working for you?” Darcy asked, trying not to laugh at the sheer stupidity of it all. She failed. It hurt as it pulled on her stitches, even with the painkillers.

“I mean, not great,” the guy shrugged. Darcy figured it was as appropriate an answer as any, and fell back into a drugged sleep. She didn’t even notice that she was now lying on a soft bed with even softer pillows, and not the cold and uncomfortable asphalt.

* * *

 

“Are we driving?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool, cool, cool…”

“Sure.”

“Hey, so why am I not actively fighting you with every fiber of my being right now?”

“I got no fucking clue, but if you could just keep that up, it’d be great.”

“Mhm. And you’re definitely not still trying to kill me, right?”

“Definitely.”

“Cool, cool, cool...”

“Go back to sleep, Lewis.”

* * *

“Wait, hang on –“ Darcy stopped mid-sentence, shutting her eyes and trying to get her brain to stop buzzing. It didn’t work, so she opened them again, focusing on the man in front of her. That didn’t seem to work as well as she’d hoped either, but she valiantly ignored that. “Where are we?”

“Somewhere safe,” he answered easily, putting the glass he’d been helping her drink from on the table by the sofa she was resting on. Trying to rest, at least.

“Why not a hospital?” Darcy asked, because she’d been shot and doctors usually helped with that. And, fucking hell, why was her head acting so weird? A doctor should know about that. Maybe she should tell the guy trying to keep her alive, even though he shot her. (Darcy was very confused as to where she and her now less-than-optimal brain fitted into this version of her life.)

“I figured I should start protecting you at some point,” He answered, a flash of guilt just noticeable on his face before it was replaced by a teasing smirk.

“I’m sure you did all right even when you were actively trying to kill me,” Darcy managed to grin, even though the fatigue was catching up with her. “Surely no one would want to encroach on your space.”

“Don’t think you’re supposed to be comforting the guy that shot you in the stomach, but okay.”

Darcy was almost certain she saw him smile before she fell asleep again. Later, when she woke up in an aching body in a empty room in a unknown house, she decided that even if it was a figment of her imagination it wouldn't matter as she managed to get some small comfort from it. She also decided that she'd stop feeling guilty about where she drew her comforts - life was too unpredictable for that, which had been proven time and time again.

* * *

“So how did you get killing me and protecting me mixed up?”

They were on day three in the safe house and Darcy was still in too much pain to be bored, but he was also weaning her off the meds and she was starting to get her ability to think back. She wasn’t completely there yet, seeing as she wasn’t running out the door while yelling for Jane, but it wouldn’t be long now. She still felt ‘slow’, as if everything was always slightly out of reach.

“I don’t know.” The guy said, still with his back towards Darcy and facing the window. “I think I got the order by mistake by Hydra once, and then they tried to wipe it from my system but failed to do so completely, and then –“

“– And then you got the order to protect me and your brain got all mixed up.” Darcy interrupted, gleeful about his annoyance until she saw the implications. “ _Oh_.”

“Yeah, _oh_.” He repeated, turning from the window to her, though even Darcy could see all his attention wasn’t on her, but spread across the woods around the house. “Your papers were hitting closer to home than Pierce liked.”

“That’s no good.” Darcy said, remembering watching his acceptance speech when he received the Nobel Peace Prize and just how capable he looked. But there were even more pressing matters at hand: “Hey, what’s your name and why do you look so familiar?”

* * *

“You look like you give great cuddles, by the way.”

“You’re not supposed to tell that to the guy who shot you less than two weeks ago.”

“Fuck you, I’ll do whatever I want.”

“Oh, really? I hadn’t noticed.”

“Funny. So do I get cuddles or am I massively overstepping here?”

“Fine. But not many; I have to check the perimeter soon.”

“You checked it an hour ago!”

“Yes. And then I will check it again and maybe I can keep you alive for a few more hours.”

“Just believe in yourself, Bucky, and everything will work out just fine.”

“ _Funny_.”

* * *

“We need to get back to civilization before _I_ start pulling triggers here,” Darcy complained, even going so far as to pout up at Bucky to really drive her point home.

“You need at least another week of physiotherapy before I’m willing to risk going back.” Bucky repeated for the nth time, unable to keep the irritation out of his voice. He really was trying to be patient with her as he knew, from looking at her SHIELD-files, that she was trying really hard to be patient with him and do as he told her because she knew he was right and not just do the exact opposite for the sake of it.

 _However_ , this was the seventh time in an hour Darcy complained and Bucky was already grumpy from his last conversation with Fury and he could see Darcy’s head wasn’t healing like it should be and he’d heard Darcy crying in the bathroom last night and he’d had no idea what to do.

He was _worried_. The fucking Winter Soldier was worried and his therapist hadn’t taught him any techniques for dealing with that yet, and so he coped by being irrigated. It did not help matters.

“Well, we have to leave this place soon anyway,” Darcy said easily, as if it was a fact. Bucky was immediately suspicious – more suspicious than he always was, anyway.

“Why?”

“My period is coming, dude. I don’t trust you to buy me the right tampons.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Bucky muttered, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Darcy was unreasonably pleased with getting him to swear. “Can’t you just tell me the brand?”

“Sure. But what if you get the wrong size? What if you get the wrong applicator? What if I suddenly decide I don’t want an applicator at all and have no way of telling you? What if someone finds me when you leave and I’m all alone and my only weapon is my bleeding vagina? What then, Bucky? And what about the pads and the pantyliners? It’s a lot of responsibility. Not to mention we need to get some iron as well, because I lose a lot and you don’t want me fainting all over the place, do you? And the right painkillers too –“

“Fine! Fine, I will take you to a store even though it will almost definitely get us all killed because you can’t be bothered to write down whether you want a plastic or paper applicator.”

“I’m very impressed you even know there’s a choice.”

* * *

“How did they even find us?”

“Apparently you have a very specific period-survival kit and they were looking for it in places with a low population.”

Darcy’s eyes widened comically, her mouth forming a little o. “Seriously? What the fuck, Barnes?”

“They’re Hydra, Darcy. They don’t really give a shit about privacy.” Bucky said, his tone betraying how unreasonably angry he was. There was nothing unreasonable about his anger towards Hydra, it was just that he was more pissed off about _how_ Hydra found them and less about almost getting killed (again). There was a fucking _line_ , okay, and that line was drawn at which pantyliners people preferred. When he glanced over to check on her, he was surprised to see a hint of a smile on her lips, but it was gone before he could be sure. He looked to her forehead, where a wound was steadily bleeding, and dripping down on her sweater. “How’s your head?”

“It’s fine,” she shrugged, wincing as it pulled on her stiches. He’d taken most of them out now, but he’d left a few near her ribcage as it was there he focused the physiotherapy and she needed the extra support. She was dizzy enough without the added pain of her wound reopening. “It hurts, but it could just be the period. If it isn’t, it’s still pretty normal to have a headache after hitting your head, right?”

“Right.” Bucky confirmed, albeit reluctantly. Her headache from the shooting – or falling after being shot, after _he shot her_ – was just showing signs of healing and he didn’t like the repeated trauma to the same place, especially not when the _space_ was her head. Still, there was no point in worrying her, so he kept his thoughts to himself. “We’ll stop at the first restroom we find after six hours.”

“ _Six hours_?” Darcy groaned, banging her head back against the car seat. Bucky didn’t miss the pained grimace, no matter how much she tried to cover it with a frown. “I’m going to bleed through!”

“At least you’ll be alive to bleed,” Bucky pointed out. It didn’t seem to help, judging by the glare he could feel burrowing into his skull. “Sorry,” he added apologetically, because it did seem like a pretty shitty situation.

“It’s fine,” Darcy said, even though it clearly wasn’t. “Just don’t fucking look at me if I start crying out of frustration and humiliation.”

“As long as you don’t look at me when I start crying for the very same reasons.”

“Why would _you_ be crying?” Darcy asked, as if Bucky being humiliated seemed inconceivable.

“Because I now have to explain to Fury that we barely survived a gunfight because of your period.”

Bucky tried not to notice how his chest felt tight but at the same time very light at the sound of her laughter.

* * *

Nearly getting shot again did wonders for Darcy’s patience. It might have been getting out of the old cabin, followed by the road trip and then a new cabin, but she insisted it was the part where she nearly got shot.

“Trauma is fucking exhausting, but the adrenalin trip is something else. I didn’t really feel it when you shot me, but oh my god. Adrenalin is, like, a _thing_.”

“Mhm,” Bucky hummed, helping Darcy into bed and surrounding her with all the pillows and duvets he could find. When he was satisfied she’d be comfortable, she was just a head looking up at him from a sea of fluffy things.

“Hi!” She laughed, slightly giddy from the pain meds but mostly just happy she’d survived. Bucky knew the feeling, as he was very happy she’d survived as well.

“Hi,” he replied, his lips tilting into a smile without him noticing. Darcy didn’t tell him; too scared it would disappear the moment she mentioned it. She didn’t want to make him self-conscious.

“Are you staying with me tonight?” Darcy asked, looking at the place beside her on the bed. She was so out of it when they arrived at the first cabin that she didn’t know where he slept for the first two weeks. After she’d needled him into cuddling her – he was not as reluctant as he pretended to be, judging by how quickly he relaxed - he’d slept curled up around her. He said it was for security reasons, and while Darcy knew there was some truth in that, she also knew that hugs were nice. There were no ‘security reasons’ for spooning. It was their first unspoken agreement and Darcy revered in it: unspoken agreements meant some degree of trust or friendship, and she needed that - probably even more than she cared to admit, even to herself.

“Yes,” he answered, “if it’s okay?”

“It’d be nice if you did. Feels safer that way.”

“Good. That’s what I’m here for.”

* * *

“My head feels weird. When we first met, I acted really weird too. Remember that, in the car on the way to the first house?”

“Can _you_ remember that?”

“No. Well, kinda?”

“…”

“I can’t remember anything tangible, I just remember fragments of feeling sort of floaty.”

“Floaty?”

“Yes? Like nothing really mattered and like I couldn’t reach my thoughts.”

"..."

"What?"

“I think you have a bad concussion. It’s why I’ve slept in your bed; to make sure you don’t die on me.”

“Is that the only reason?”

“It’s also to keep you safe in case of an attack.”

“So if there was a chair right next to my bed, you would sleep in that instead?”

“Would you like me to get a chair? I could try to find one if you w–“

“No, unless yo–“

“No.”

“…”

“…”

“Good talk, Barnes."

Much of their conversations consisted of Darcy trying to interpret the silence after a bitten-off sentence, but she found she didn’t mind as much as she thought she would. If she was being honest, she didn’t mind at all.

* * *

“How did you end up protecting me after you’d shot me?” Darcy asked, with nothing but curiosity in her tone.

“There wasn’t enough time for anyone else to take over.” Bucky answered after a few seconds of making sure he didn’t vomit from the wave of guilt crashing over him. Darcy was oblivious to it, too busy rearranging the raspberries on her oatmeal into a smiley. She looked pleased with her work when she finally looked at him, like a proud puppy that just completed their first poo outside. It was very adorable.

“Enough time?”

“Hydra was moving in,” Bucky shrugged, “I had to get you out of there. Thor was screaming in my ear and you were bleeding to death in front of me. As much as I wanted to leave and never come back, that would mean leaving you to die.” He was better trained than to hesitate on the word 'die', but it was a near miss.

Darcy stayed quiet as she methodically loaded her spoon with oatmeal and one raspberry (one of the eyes had to make the sacrifice) and swallowed it down as Bucky watched, waiting for her reply. “If someone else could have reached me in time –“

“I would’ve left.” Bucky said with with his usual matter-of-fact voice, as if that wasn’t really tragic.

“But it wasn’t your fault. I mean, if you were lucid enough to realize it was me and you were supposed to be protecting me, wouldn’t you know it wasn’t your fault?” Darcy rested her arms on the table between them, leaning forward in her chair as if it was vital that he understood this. She’d even moved the oatmeal with the wonky smiley out of the way. “I can’t really imagine Thor letting you out in the field if he wasn’t sure you knew what happened under Hydra’s control wasn’t your fault.”

“I wasn’t under Hydra’s control when I shot you.” Bucky said, shifting uncomfortably in his seat but refusing to drop his eyes. The air shifted around them, as if it wasn’t just that one incident they were discussing.

“Illness. Not your fault,” Darcy furrowed her brows, staring intently at Bucky. “I’m not happy you shot me, I’m not trying to excuse the action – I’m just saying you can’t be held responsible for it.”

“Maybe,” Bucky said, even though it was plain to see he didn’t agree. “But say I’m not responsible – I still went out in the field when I obviously wasn’t enough well enough.”

“Was that your first time in the field since Hydra?”

“Yes. That’s why you were my mission; it was supposed to ease me back into it.” It was clear from his tone of voice he didn’t like being coddled. Darcy nearly had to bite down a smile, because it was so like the Bucky she remembered learning about in ninth grade had just walked straight out of the books. The historians got a lot of things wrong about Steve, but they were very close to the mark with Bucky. “I was supposed to get you to New York so Thor could sleep knowing you were safe and I could do some actual work that wouldn’t put anyone at risk.”

“Did you call me?” Darcy narrowed her eyes as she concentrated, some vague memories coming back with Bucky’s – unintentional – gentle nudging.

“Yes. I wanted to make sure you knew who was protecting you.” Bucky flashed a self-deprecating smile. “I can be a shock to the system.”

“But you don’t think highly of yourself at all,” Darcy rolled her eyes, sarcasm spilling from her lips as if she hadn’t accidentally turned breakfast into an intervention.

“I spend enough time on the internet to know people have a _thing_ for my lips,” Bucky said, taking the easy way out that Darcy had handed him on a silver platter and running with it (gently, so not to lose it.)

“If you haven’t found the people who love your jawline, I say you should run before it’s too late,”

“Thor showed me the fanfic you sent him.”

“And we’re done here – thanks for the food, Buckybear!”

“So you don’t want to discuss how much Sam loves my dic–“

“No.”

“Darc–“

“Nope!”

“I just think –“

“Bucky.” Darcy leaned over the table and put her finger over his (grinning, soft) lips with intent in her eyes. “ _Enough_.”

* * *

“Bucky?”

“Yeah?”

“Are we friends?”

“What?”

“I mean, you don’t just humor me anymore, right? You talk to me because you actually want to?”

“I never humored you. Humoring is just a very weak form of lying, and I’m done with that shit.”

“Unless it’s to save lives.”

“Obviously.”

“So…”

“Yes, Darcy – we’re friends.”

“Nice.”

“Just eat your chocolate.”

“Fuck you, I’ll do whatever I want.”

* * *

“You’ve been grumpy ever since Fury called you,” Darcy said, inspecting her yoghurt as she scraped the very last of it with a flimsy plastic spoon that kept bending when Darcy definitely did not want it to bend. It didn't help that the car ride wasn't the smoothest, despite Bucky's best efforts.

“I have not.” Bucky protested, only there was no whining. Just a steady determination Darcy was sure she would never master, no matter how many self-help books.

“I thought you didn’t do lying anymore,” she grinned; a toothy, shit-eating thing Bucky wanted to wipe off her face or maybe kiss or _something_.

“I’m not grumpy,” he said, after a few too many moments staring at her lips. “I’m in a perfectly acceptable mental state considering the situation.”

“Oh, so that’s what the kids are calling it these days,” Darcy raised an unimpressed eyebrow at him, just to make sure he knew she knew he was bullshitting – in case the tone of her voice didn’t make it abundantly clear. It did, by the way, make it abundantly clear. “No seriously – what’s this _situation_?”

“Nothing you need to worry about.”

“The last time something was nothing I need to worry about, I ended up getting shot.”

“And you made a new friend,” Bucky pointed out, gesturing to himself. “Worked out pretty well for you, I’d say. You even got a cool scar you can use to seduce people with.”

“Mhm.” Darcy pursed her lips as she threw her yoghurt into the makeshift trashcan she’d made at her feet, before sitting up in her seat so she could properly face an increasingly uncomfortable Bucky. “And this reason you’re grumpy – “

“Not grumpy.”

“– _and this reason you’re grumpy_ , does it have anything do to with why you sounded so bitter about how I could use my scar to get people into bed?”

“Bed? Who said anything about beds?” Bucky turned away from the road, looking at her like she was acting crazy. His baby blues were wide with innocence and everything. “I never said anything about any beds.”

“Mhm. Bucky, cut the crap.”

“There is no crap to cut.”

Darcy scoffed as she fell back into her seat. “So the thought of me taking other people into bed doesn’t make you jealous at all?”

“Why would it? I have no right to be jealous.”

“ _Right_?” Darcy grinned sharply, observing the way Bucky’s pulse was working just a little bit harder than usual, which was something she knew because, yes, Darcy was one of those people who really liked his jawline. “I notice you didn’t say _reason_.”

Bucky remained silent, trying to will her away simply by the force of his stubbornness.

“You don’t have any comment on that?” Darcy asked, trying to contain her smile. “None at all?”

He turned to her again, raising his eyebrows as if to say ‘nope, none at all!’

“Fine.” Darcy said, “I’ll just sit here and think about all the people I’m going to seduce once we’re back, which should be in, what? Five hours? I think I’m going to convince Tony that last-minute parties is the new thing and we should totally have one to celebrate our coming back. Maybe invite a few X-Men, the Storms…”

“I know what you’re doing.”

“I’m not doing anything!”

“It’s childish and it won’t work.”

“Of course it won’t, because I’m not doing it.”

“…”

“I notice you said _won’t_ , not _wouldn’t_.”

“… What?”

“Nothing. Just interesting choice words, is all. _Wouldn’t_ always seemed more final to me – like something _could_ never happen, whereas _won’t_ …”

“Just needs a bit of gentle nudging?”

Darcy smiled at Bucky, at the pulse in his neck and the nervous whirring she could barely hear from his arm. “Something like that.”

* * *

“Tony, I will fucking fight you.” Darcy seethed, with narrowed eyes and a dangerously tight grip on her glass.

“Oh no,” Tony said, rolling his eyes, “what ever will I do? The intern has set her wicked eyes on me – “

“I didn’t get to use my bleeding vagina as a weapon against Hydra, but if you say –“

“Gimli is a completely useless character.”

Silence.

And then: “Prepare.” Darcy rasped, stepping closer to Tony, “to get fucking fucked up.”

* * *

"JARVIS is very disappointed in you."

"Hah!" Darcy turned to Tony with a triumphant grin, like that of a younger sister who successfully convinced the new baby sitter that, _yes, my older brother really did do that and, yes, I did try to stop him, I promise!_

"That's _you_ as in plural." Steve said, with his deep and very American voice. Darcy deflated a little, much like a younger sister whose mother has just come home and called her bluff in front of the baby sitter.

"Hah!" Tony sniped from underneath his icepack and really, the fucker was just begging for it -

"Darcy, stop - oh my god, that's it! _No touching!_ "

"... Someone in this room _has_ to have that kink," Darcy said, sitting up from where she'd crawled into the couch so she could more effectively attack Tony, and looked at Steve. His face was slightly flushed after his outburst, and reddened more as he stared at Darcy. He was no prude, but Darcy was more of a not-prude and they both knew it.

"Honey, _I_ have that kink." Tony grinned, all teeth and mischief and Darcy couldn't help herself as she fell into a fit of giggles at Steve's indignant, " _Tony!_ "

"Do you think he's more pissed about the kink thing or that you lied?" Darcy asked, managing to calm down enough to form a sentence.

"Lied?" Tony rolled his eyes dramatically, "Oh, please. I'm better than that."

"Are you?" Darcy arched a brow at him as Steve left them to their own devices, muttering something about _fucking DNA test, I swear to fuck_ as he walked away. "I know for a fact that your favorite character of all time is Gimli."

"Is not!"

"I've seen the shrine." Darcy cocked her head to the side and stared into Tony as his face shifted slightly. Nothing she could accurately name, but it shifted all the same. She thought the feeling of victory in her chest was how Nat felt all the time. "It rivals even the Capt-"

"I was trying to goad you into attacking me so I could attack you back and then Bucky would step in and you would be impressed and then make sweet, sweet acrobatic love to him!"

Darcy arched her other brow, letting it join the other as they fully communicated just how unimpressed she was. She hoped he didn't notice her lips twitching as she hid her amusement, because her relationship with Tony was a constant battle of not letting him know when she found something funny because that encouraged the sort of behavior she really didn't want to be held responsible for. Steve was all fun and games until he absolutely _wasn’t_.

"Wow," she finally said, "you really don't want anyone to know about your obsession with -"

"Also I wanted Storm to fuck off and he really only comes around because of you, so I figured I'd just kill two birds in one stone!"

Yes, this _had_ to be how Nat felt all the time.

* * *

"Tony thinks you're in love with me."

Later, Darcy would consider this sentence her finest moment for three reasons: one, Tony had at absolutely no point said this, so if Bucky didn’t like her she could easily make a joke and everything would be fine and she could heal her broken heart in peace; two, because she wasn't _technically_ lying when she said that (in the same way Nat wasn't technically lying when she used a cover because at that moment in time, she _was_ Natalie Rushman) because Tony had used the words _make sweet, sweet acrobatic love_ , and really, she was just interpreting some source material in the way that fitted her best which was the truest form of academia and Darcy knew Tony would respect that.

Lastly, she considered this a victory because there was a defensive challenge in Bucky's eyes as if to say, _so what? What are you gonna do with that?_ A thrill went through her as she realized this could be something, because they’d just spent a good five weeks stepping on each other’s toes and Darcy already found herself missing him.

She let her elbow rest on the table in front of them (beside them, really, with how they were facing each other,) and gently cupped his jaw with her hand.

She saw him draw a deep breath, felt his neck move under her little- and ring finger, and smiled as gently as she could when her heart was hammering in her chest and she could literally feel excitement pounding in her ears.

Bucky leaned forward of his own accord, so instead of nudging him towards her, Darcy pushed her fingers to the back of his neck and up his scalp, holding him in place by curling her fingers into his hair as they finally kissed.

It was soft and easy and quiet, but she knew her eyes were brimming with an exhilaration that mirrored his when she pulled away.

"Yeah, of course." He finally answered, his voice a little rougher and his lips a little redder than usual.

Darcy grinned. It was his turn to read the silence now and he was more than capable. She didn't need to say anything.

**Author's Note:**

> Nothing belongs to me. Thanks for reading :D
> 
> //[My tumblr"](http://empresslucrezia.tumblr.com/) :)


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